Page 91 of The Single Dad Project

A flicker of stubbornness crossed his expression, and obviously, he still wanted to state his case, but a second later he dipped his chin and settled back in the rocker.

“I’ve never put myself in your shoes. Oh, I said I understood, but I always followed it up with, ‘but I lost a mother, too.’ And while true, it didn’t—doesn’t—negate or diminish your pain, your grief. Cole said something. He was talking about loving another child after losing his, but it still struck me when I thought of you. He said he didn’t want to love another baby because it felt like a betrayal to the ones he’d lost. And that he refused to get attached again because the pain had almost broken him the first time.”

Noah stared at her, not speaking, and she took that as an indication to continue, that he was listening.

“If you substituted joy for love in that sentence, I realized it could describe you. Maybe you didn’t feel like you deserved happiness because it would feel like a betrayal to feel joy without the one who brought it to you. And maybe...” She pushed past the tightness in her chest to finish, because it was this thought that gave her the most pain. For him and herself. “Maybe it would’ve been easier to let me go than risk losing me like my mother. Because you were barely surviving the first time. Like Cole, you might not have survived if anything happened to me.”

Noah closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped, an audible breath shuddering from between his lips. Or it could’ve been a sob.

Either way, she inched forward on the rocker and reached out to him for the first time in over twenty years—both emotionally and physically—and laid her hand over his.

The sound that erupted from him was definitely a sob. A loud, jagged thing that had to hurt his throat. It was so wounded that an animal could’ve released it, and her hand tightened over his, giving him an anchor while lost in a grief that she doubted had eroded in the passing years.

A softer sound caught her notice, and she lifted her head, spying Wolf and her father standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the back porch. Both men, their big frames so similar, stood still and watchful. She suspected they’d been there awhile, overhearing her and Noah’s conversation.

Her father’s gaze shifted from her to his brother when another terrible cry burst from Noah. He moved forward, about to mount the stairs, but Flo shook her head, stopping him. She needed to be here for Noah. This was their shared sadness, their common loss. And he...needed her. His connection to the wife he’d loved so much.

Ian paused, his foot still set on that bottom step, but after a long moment, he slowly nodded. Then he and Wolf quietly walked away, heading around the side of the house. Something told her, because she knew her father so well, he would be close by just in case she or his brother needed him. Because that was the kind of man he was.

She waited as Noah wept, and she grabbed the small tablecloth off the little table in between the chairs and handed it to him as a makeshift napkin. He wiped his face and nose, and when he lifted his head and looked at her, the crying jag had seemed to leave new creases in his weathered face, but his blue-gray eyes were clear.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.

But she shook her head, assuming he referred to his emotional breakdown.

“There’s no need to apologize for mourning her.”

“No,” he objected. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you before. And until now...” He swallowed and fell silent for a second. But he cleared his throat and repeated, “Until now, I haven’t even admitted to myself that I did it for me more so than for you. I was protecting myself, my heart. You said you’ve been angry. And I guess so have I. Angry at the world, at God for losing the love of my life. But also at myself for losing you. Your mother... You were her everything. And I failed her by not being there in the way she would’ve wanted, the way I promised to be when I married her. And I couldn’t forgive myself for that. I wrapped it up in excuses like I was doing the best for you, or you were with a family and parents who adored you. But the truth was I couldn’t look at my own failings—or was afraid to. So it became easier to stay away, to convince myself that I’d done right. When I wronged you, Flo. I wronged you and your mother. And I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.”

“Noah.” She gripped his hand with both of hers now, and he turned his over, clinging to her. “I forgive you. I forgave you before I came over here, which is why I wanted to talk to you. Now we both have to find a way to forgive ourselves and let go. Not of Aisha, but of the regret, the pain, the guilt. Earlier, I decided to stop focusing on the negative things when I think of her, like how I missed the opportunity to know her. And instead, I’m choosing to take joy in what she gave me. A new start. A new home. Family. You.” She squeezed his hands. “You were part of the gifts, the legacy she left me. And I’ve decided to embrace it all.”

He bowed his head, and his chest rose and fell with rapid, hoarse breaths. She thought he might be crying again, but then he raised his chin, and his eyes were still clear. But his expression... She held back her own sudden sob. His expression held a heartbreaking mixture of sadness, agony and hope.

And love.

“Thank you, Flo,” he whispered. “Thank you for that.”

“We’re going to try—no. No, we won’t try. We’re going todoit. We’re going to forgive and move forward. Both of us. Together.”

“Yes.” He nodded, and for the first time since he returned to Rose Bend—for the first time in decades—they shared a real smile with each other.

“Noah, I...”

He shook his head. “No hesitation, Flo. Just say it. Like I said, don’t be afraid to hurt my feelings or to be honest. I think we’ve come too far today for that.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I would really like to have you in my life again. I hope we can build a relationship but as...friends. I already have a dad, and no one could ever replace him. But I would love to have a really good friend.”

Noah smiled again, and she couldn’t pretend not to see the sadness that lingered. But the lines in his face had eased, and if she wasn’t mistaken, peace had settled there.

“I could always use a friend. Especially a really good one.”

They sat out on the porch a little while longer, talking. A little stilted at first, but with each passing minute, with more comfort, and soon, even with a bit of laughter. It was a beginning.

And when she glanced up, she glimpsed a big shadow in the mudroom’s doorway. Love and joy swelled inside her.

Her father.

Because he was never far away.

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